Heavenly Things
by Thinkerthehobbit
Summary: Maurice had it all: good grades, a great family, and he was always surrounded by people. The only thing he really wanted was a true friend. His family moves to the village of Bloodpool, England. There he hopes to start a new. However, he meets a boy that will change his life for the best...and worst. Rogice
1. Chapter 1

The car was modest in size, it had five seats. Behind it was a large trailer filled with the family's belongings. It was the only car on the whole highway. The strong snow and brisk winter air discouraged many would-be travelers.

Inside the automobile was the entire Orwell family. Janice Orwell, a kind woman of around forty was in the passenger seat. Stephen Orwell, fourty-two, drove with a grin on his aged face. Crammed into the back were the three kids: Alice, fourteen, earbuds shoved deeply into her cranium; Simon, ten, a copy of _Animal Farm_ in his face; and Maurice, seventeen.

Maurice was a handsome boy (unlike myself) and was very smart and talented. He had gotten all A's on his report cards ever since they started giving them out and was a master when it came to the violin. A smile on his cheerful face, Maurice happily looked out the window.

"When are we, like, gonna get there?" Alice questioned, one earbud in her hand.

"In a few more minutes, dear!" Janice replied cheerfully. "I can't believe it! We're actually moving to England!"

Stephen's dad and mom moved to the village of Bloodpool five years earlier. Ever since then, they had wanted to join them.

"Yeah!" Simon exclaimed, placing the hardcover book on his lap, "I'm gonna be in the same country as George Orwell was!" He turned to his older brother. "What do you think, Maurice?"

"It's going to be _amazing_!" He smiled broadly. "When I get to school, I'm going to give a hug to everyone I meet!"

"Uh...I don't think you should do that this year," Stephen warned, "Remember the incident with the football player?"

Upon hearing that, Maurice instinctively placed a hand on his belly.

"He looked like he needed a hug, is all."

"Yeah, Maurice," Alice joined in, "that was, like, so _gay!"_

"ALICE!"

"Oh c'mon, honey, it _was_ pretty gay."

Janice shook her head at her husband's reasoning.

"It wasn't gay." Simon patted the brown haired boy'a arm.

"Thanks."

Simon was the nicest one to him.

The car roared down the highway and past a sign.

_Here we are, _Maurice thought to himself as he pressed his face against the cold glass and watched the passing brightness, _I wonder what adventures will happen to me?!_

**A/N: so, yeah, I'm back. This idea has been in my head for quite sometime. It'll get a lot darker as it goes on :3 **


	2. Chapter 2

Bloodpool was the perfect village. It had the normal, modern convinces (a small Best Buy, a few Red Boxes, and other things of the like), but it also had several archaic features that made one feel like they were living in the sixties. The buildings were ancient, most built in the latter half of the nineteenth century. And on main street, each one was adjoined in some way.

Bloodpool was certainly the best place to live...and to die.

"Wow! It's cute and old!" Maurice exclaimed, his voice partly muffled due to the fact his face was pressed against the window.

"Yeah!" agreed his father. "And not a moment too soon; I have just enough time to unpack and return this trailer!"

They had rented the trailer before moving, the rest was to be sent by boat (yes, people still did that).

"I know what I'm going to do!" Simon bounced with joy. "I'm gonna go to the library and look through the genealogy records to see if we're related to George Orwell!"

"Simon," began Janice, "I think you should lay off that guy. I just don't get him: animals walking on two legs, fighting humans, and the government spying on us! Who writes that?"

Simon shook his head. It took brains to understand and respect Orwell!

"Thank God! It feels like it has been forever since I walked!" Alice yawned and tried to rest deeper into her seat.

After passing through several snow-laden streets, the car made its way to a small neighborhood. Pulling into a driveway, the car stopped and was turned off. The doors came open, and out came the family, yawning and stretching.

The house they came to a stop at was a large, antique, brick building. It was two stories and three large windows at the top, with two on either side at the bottom.

"Home sweet home!" Maurice practically yelled as he skipped merrily up the cement path to the door, nearly slipping on ice.

"Watch it! I don't want to spend my Sunday cleaning up blood!"

Maurice couldn't tell if his dad was joking or not.

Stephen unlocked the door and Maurice quickly ran in.

A great thud resounded in the large home as Maurice slipped on a rug.


	3. Chapter 3

Maurice was absolutely excited: it was the begging of school!

He had gotten up early (five A.M.) and showered. He made sure his brown hair was combed neatly (well, neater than usual) and brushed his teeth for seven minutes straight. He put on what seemed to be a gallon of smelly cologne and changed his outfit nearly twelve times.

As soon as his father dropped him off, he ran into the building and to his first class. This wasn't out of eagerness. They had a great deal of trouble finding the school, and, when they did, it was three minutes till class started.

His first class was science. Maurice practically threw the door opened and dramatically entered, his chest heaving and his face red. "I'm sorry I'm late! It took us forever to find the school!"

The teacher, Mr. Gordon, groaned. He was a stern, no nonsense or jokes sort of guy. He often got angry for no reason. He was short, way short than any of the students, and was quite fat.

"Considering this is your first day, Mr. Orwell," Mr. Gordon warned, attempting to be intimidating, "I will let you off easy! That excuse will not save you in the near future, however!" He tried to sound tough, but it made people just feel sorry for him. A short, forty-two year old man that looked like Bilbo Baggins but with facial hair just wasn't really intimidating.

"Anyway, welcome to my science class. I'll let you sit..," he briefly scanned the room, "there!"

Maurice followed his stubby, pointed hand. At the very last lab table at the very last row, was an empty stool. But the person occupying the seat next to that, was what caught Maurice's attention.

It was a boy about his age. A boy with skin that was like virgin snow and hair like a dark and windy night. The long, curly hair framed a handsome face. A very handsome face. In fact, this boy was probably the most handsome Maurice had ever seen. Not that Maurice thought of boys in that way, his mother told him repeatedly that girls and only could like boys.

Mr. Gordon leaned in a whispered, "If he tries to kill you, let me know!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Roger Dammers is a psycho!"

Mr. Gordon's voice was know loud, the entire class hearing perfectly.

"Mr. Gordon!" Maurice scolded. How could a teacher say such a thing about a harmless-looking, and not to mention handsome, student! "He's probably a delightful child, once you get to know him!"

The class the erupted into laughter.

"Roger? Delightful! You gotta be kidding!" laughed one kid.

Mr. Gordon, after laughing quite an amount of time himself, yelled for the class to quieten. "Now class! Don't laugh at Maurice, he didn't know how bad Roger is."

Not wanting to be laughed at again, Maurice walked to the back stool. He sat himself, down, put on his best smile, and outstretched his hand. "Hello! My name is Maurice, you must be Roger!"

Maurice slowly retracted his hand when all Roger did was stare at him with cold, shark-like eyes.

"I'm sorry about the laughter, I didn't mean for them to be rude like that."

Roger snorted. "They're always rude! Sometimes I wish I could just take a machine gun and blow all of their fucking heads off!"

Maurice was surprised at how calm Roger said this, like he had thought of this many a time. "Just because of what happened, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that!"

Roger smiled, revealing a row of razor sharp white teeth.

"Now, class," began Mr. Gordon, "I want you all to complete this worksheet. It is challenging, but only to the ones who didn't listen."

The entire class groaned at this. Maurice giggled, this was going to be easy!


	4. Chapter 4

Maurice finished the worksheet in record time. He leaned back in his seat and smiled, watching the other, less smart, kids struggle. He could be self centered if need be.

He looked over at Roger. Roger stared blankly at the paper, the only thing on it being his name. Roger picked up his pencil, placed it against his paper as if he was to write, held it their, then pulled it back up. He repeated this motion several times.

Maurice frowned. Maybe it was because of how he was treated by the class a few moments ago, or maybe it was because he was so damn handsome. Either way, Maurice felt guilty to see him struggle. Maurice felt an overpowering urge to hug the boy, but he had an odd feeling that he would be stabbed in return. Maurice came up with a new approach.

"Um..Roger?" he asked, nervous that he might disturb the disturbed.

"_What?!"_

Maurice nearly jumped back at his angry voice; he wondered if this sudden rage was from frustration or actual anger.

"Well...er...I was just thinking that...uh...maybe you can look off of my paper...if you want to, that is! You just look a little stuck."

He put on his best smile, but his lips kept on quivering.

"Are you sure?"

Maurice felt a load leave his shoulders when he saw that Roger was no longer visibly angry. He was actually quite surprised at the boy's sudden kindness._ Kind, creepy, mysterious, and hot! _Maurice though amusedly to himself.

His next words came out clear and fearless: "Of course you can copy! I used to let people do it all of the time back at my old school! And plus, you need it!"

The period was over before they knew it. Maurice said goodbye to Roger, who awkwardly (and, in Maurice's eyes, adorably) thanked him for the help.

The next class was literature. Roger had it, too, but he was near the front while Maurice was more towards the middle. However, he did have a good view of him. Maurice spent most of the time staring at him. At his pale, perfect skin; at his curly, night-colored hair; at his dark, mysterious eyes. Normally, he would have mentally hit himself for thinking about a guy like that, but this felt different, _really _different.

Math came but Roger didn't. That changed with lunch.

** A/N: Sorry for finishing early, but I was really tired. More will come very soon. Any way, I really hope this is going good. Whenever I'm finished with a chapter or something, I always feel like I messed something up. My biggest fear is that I'm not writing the characters correctly. I find it a little difficult to write something that's already be written and has to be a certain way. I guess that's just part of it, though. Thanks for reading and please review! **


	5. Chapter 5

Maurice walked out of the lunch line and into the large cafeteria. Since, he was one of the first people in line, the room was more or less empty. He decided to go to one of the tables in the far corner and sit. He sat and waited for the rest of the kids to join him.

No such event happened.

In fact, no one sat in the three tables _surrounding _his. Maurice looked around, still hoping for someone to decide to join him. Eventually he saw Roger head his way. Maurice smiled.

"Thank _goodness _you're sitting with me! I thought I was going to eat all alone!"

"I always sit here," Roger mumbled.

"Oh. Well, that's still good. So...what's your favorite band?"

Roger looked up and smiled. "_Bleeding Eyes._"

"Uh..okay...that sounds...interesting. Do you play sports?"

"No."

"Do you act?"

"No."

"Do you play any instruments?"

"Do you mean torture or music?"

"Music..."

"Then no."

"Do you do _any _after school activities?"

"No."

That was essentially what happened during lunch. Regardless of Roger's defiance at conversation, Maurice was enthralled in him. It wasn't just his attractiveness, it was something else. Something...different.

Roger walked slowly. His peacoat and black scarf covered the majority of his body. Underneath his feet, the sound of snow crunching was heard. The park was almost desolate, its happy look during the summer quickly replaced by the waste land of winter. This was his favorite place to hang out after school. It wasn't like he had anyone at home to worry about him.

In his head, Roger was thinking of only one person: Maurice. That weird, disturbingly cheery boy who sat next to him in science and at lunch. That boy who was actually _nice _to him, a rare occurrence in his sad life. That boy who he had a crush on.

He couldn't help but smile as he thought of the flamboyantly crazy teen. This was very odd, for Roger _never _smiled. Well, at least not after The Incident.

Roger was quickly ripped from his thoughts when he heard a noise. It was a mother and her small daughter. They were playing in the snow. The girl was running while the mom would chase her. Eventually the daughter would slow down and the mom would grab her and pick her up, exploding into giggles afterwards.

Roger felt rage boiling up inside if him. He felt his guts begin to burn and he felt like they were being churned with a stick. He began to breathe heavily and he balled his hands to fists. He was angry. _Very_ angry. He wanted to do something, to throw something. He couldn't, not at them. If he did, his dad will find out and then...

No! He ran quickly away. The rage was almost seeping out. He felt as if he was about to burst. He made it to a distant part of the park. His eyes instantly fell upon and old cat, thin and malnourished. He smiled. He looked at the ground and found a black rock, shiny, smooth, _sharp! _He picked it up, aimed, and threw.

Direct hit! The cat howled and squealed and fell down and blood came pouring out. The cat tried to get up but couldn't, almost like a bug on its back.

Roger smiled and licked his lips. With a smile on his face and the sound of the cat playing beautifully in his ears, Roger walked merrily home.

** A/N: Thanks for the sweet reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

"How was your first day, sweetie?" Maurice's mom asked as soon as he walked in the door. She smiled and hugged him warmly.

"Good. I met this cool boy named Roger. People think he's weird, but I really like him."

"That's wonderful! the first day and you're all ready making friends!"

Maurice wandered into the living room and saw that Alice was on her phone talking a mile a minute; she appeared to have the same luck. Simon was on the other end, the book _1984_ obscuring his face. Maurice smiled and giggled.

"Looks like you found a new friend," he said, plopping down in the seat next to him.

"Oh Maurice!" Simon exclaimed. "This book is _amazing! _George Orwell is the best writer ever!"

"Sure looks like it!"

Just then, their dad walked in, a cell phone in his hand. "Guess what! Grandma and grandpa are coming tonight!"

Maurice and Simon yelled out in happiness; they hadn't seen them for a very long time. Alice just looked at them angrily. She never liked to be interrupted.

Minutes later the doorbell rang. Maurice and Simon scrambled to the door and almost tore it open. In came a tall man who looked like a white-haired Henry Kissinger and a short lady with a kind yet withered face. The boys hugged them tightly.

"Oh Simon and Maurice!" exclaimed Martha Orwell, "you all have to grown up to be such heavenly things! And where's that dear little Alice? Oh! Well, she isn't quite little any more!"

While she was busy babying Alice, Luther Orwell walked to the tow young boys. "It's been so long! I nearly forgotten your faces! Where's your parents? I have so many stories to tell you all!"

After all introductions were done, supper came. The food was delicious and they were all happy. As they ate, Luther began to tell stories about his job. Shortly after he moved, he became the chief of Bloodpool's police forces. He told many a tale that night of his adventures, some funny, some quite scary.

When supper time was over. The conversation mostly turned to politics. The Orwell family was among the groups of Conservative Christians. They talked mostly of Atheists trying to ban prayer in some schools, Gay marriage being proved, and even of Muslims who moved in down the street. All of these topics were met with great anger amongst the members excluding Simon, who always was silent during these debates, and Maurice.

Maurice, not truly wanting to hear again that gays were going to burn in Hell, excused himself and went into the living room. On the television was one of those crime shows. The story was about a girl and her boyfriend who killed her family because they wouldn't let her see him. Maurice hated these shows and quickly changed the channel. He turned it on some dumb sitcom. He stared at the screen but didn't fully register the images. He was thinking of a certain dark haired boy.

**A/N: I know it's kinda short, but I did what I thought was necessary. I might not update until Friday night because I'm going to be kinda busy. I'm also pretty damn lazy. Any who, thank you all for the amazing reviews. They always make me feel better about my work. Also, if you want to know how this story is gong to end up, I put an important clue in this chapter. It may be obvious, but oh well. Enjoy!**


	7. Chapter 7

Roger sat straight up in bed as his alarm clock blared in the room. He quickly slammed his fist down on the plastic object, effectively cutting it off. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, yawning loudly. He slowly got out of bed. He walked to the dresser and pulled out clothes, not caring if they matched or not.

With this affair done, Roger opened his bedroom door and walked down the dark hallway. The door to his dad's bedroom was already open, indicating that he had already left for work.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Roger had decided to skip school that day. Why, he didn't know. He wanted to see Maurice again, but, he didn't feel like doing much of nothing that day.

He looked in the kitchen cupboards to find something for breakfast, but, unsurprisingly, there was nothing to be found. His hunger didn't faze him; he was used to not eating regularly.

Walking out the back door, Roger made his way across the backyard and to the shed. _His_ shed, actually. His dad never went in there, thank goodness. He was greeted by a putrid smell upon opening the old, wooden door. He smiled. After his eyes adjusted to the dimness, his gaze went to a mass on the floor. The mass was actually a dog.

Roger walked up to it and crouched down, a sick grin on his face. The dog was a German Shepard and was quite large. It's back legs were bent at ninety degree angles and were stained with dry blood. At one point on either leg, ghostly bits of bone could be seen. The lower half of its mouth was open to an unnatural length and the only traces of a tongue was a bloody stump. Several teeth were cut out. Its eyes were wide open and slightly glazed over.

Rogersmiled when he saw marks on the floor surrounding the corpse, indicating that it was struggling during its last moments. _That'll teach it to bite me!_

Roger reached the front yard and began to make his way down the sidewalk when someone stopped him.

"Roger!" called Mr. Gustason, his next door neighbor. "I don't mean to bother you, but have you seen Millie? My daughter has been worried sick over that dog!"

Roger shook his head, trying hard not to grin. "I'm sorry, sir, but I haven't seen her."


	8. Chapter 8

Maurice frowned greatly when he saw that Roger wasn't at the table in science class. Sighing and wishing things were different, Maurice sauntered over to the empty table and sat awkwardly. He was about to place his things on Roger's side but quickly went against it; it didn't feel right to him.

Mr. Baggins-er...Mr. Gordon walked into the room with an upset look on his unnaturally ugly face. He smiled embarrassedly. "Uh...class. Apparently the people at the web department are going to start checking our computers' histories for some reason. So, you all get a free day today because...well...I need to..er...delete some things."

As soon as the small man ran to the computer and began banging on the delete button, the class erupted into laughs, yells, and other annoying noises. Many students began moving seats so they could be with their idiotic friends and talk about stupid things. As one may have guessed, no one came to sit near Maurice.

Maurice sighed yet again but deeper and more melancholy then before. This never happened at his old school. He wished that his old friends were there. He wished Simon was there. He wished _Roger _was there. If only he could be near that handsome, mysterious, handsome boy again...

He mentally hit himself for those thoughts. His parents said it a thousand times it seemed like: boys didn't like other boys! It was unnatural, it was unethical, it was...it was..._sinful! _Asin so badthat it would give one a one way ticket to Hell! He hated himself for those thoughts. Those terrible, sinful, pleasurable thoughts. If his parents found out... Maurice shudders at that thought.

Maurice looked around the room dismally. There was nothing entertaining at all. Maurice then began to sing. Maurice liked singing. It gave him something to do when bored, and it gave him happiness when upset. It was the perfect release.

"Well hello there!" The voice jolted Maurice back to reality. He looked over to see a boy standing there. He had slicked, red hair and pale skin. His eyes were an icy blue, and he was dressed fancily. "I didn't mean to startle you. My name is Jack. You must be that Maurice fellow!"

Maurice shook Jack's outstretched hand slowly and carefully as if to see if there was any threat present. "Hi."

"May I sit down?" Jack asked. "Thanks," he said before Maur ice could even open his mouth. He grinned, revealing his perfect white teeth. "I heard you singing. I must say, you a very talented. Do you sing often? Well of course you do. Anyway, I think you will be absolutely wonderful in my choir, right? Of course right!"

Maurice stared blankly at the boy, perplexed as to what to say, if he could get a word out.

"I can't wait to there! It's every Monday and Friday until five! You'll have fun! See you the!" Jack smiled once again and disappeared into the crowd of teens. Maurice stared blankly at where the boy sat._ The hell was that?_

Gym was always hated by Maurice. He hated having to run stupid laps. He hated playing stupid games. He hated having to change in stupid locker rooms with stupid people. He was presently doing the previous.

Maurice quickly changed back into his normal clothes so he would avoid-

"Hey, Maurice! Where's your boyfriend?"

Too late.

Tony Parker was one of the very few people that Maurice actually hated. This idea formed on the first day of school when Tony tripped him in the hallway. Maurice lowered his head and ignored him; he went back to putting up his things.

"Faggot! I'm talking to you! Look at me!"

Maurice raised his head and took a deep breath. He felt something boiling up inside of him. He clenched his fists tightly.

Toby smiled sadistically. "I said, where's your boyfriend?"

Maurice clenched his fists even tighter. "H-he's at home."

"Awww. Is he sick with AIDS?"

_Stay calm, Maurice. Stay calm!_

The bell rang and, to Maurice's happiness, Tony left. Maurice looked down at his still balled fists. He slowly opened them. On the palms of either hand were four, scarlet, crescent shaped cuts.

**A/N: Ooh, Maurice's got rage issues! Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews. They make me continue doing what I do. You have no idea how happy they make me. I have an idea for a new story. It has to do with Ralph and Simon. Love may be involved. Another idea is another Rogice story, but set in a dystopian future. I don't know which one to go with. Oh well. Merry day before Christmas Eve!**


	9. Chapter 9

The only sound that fell upon Roger's ear was that of the crunching snow. He walked slowly through the park, passing hardly anyone. It was around twelve in the afternoon and all was quiet and well. Luckily for him, no one who passed him (and that was very rare) recognized him and so no one asked why he was out of school.

After a few minutes, Roger approached a little play area. Sitting on a bench was a young woman reading a book. On a swing was a child of about four. The swing was facing the hedges, so they boy's back was to his mother. Roger smiled.

For a moment he stood there, his dark and cold eyes plotting, calculating, studying. An idea formed in his head: a terrible, awful, mean idea. He waited to make his move. For another long while he stood there silently.

Suddenly the mom closed her book and stood up. She grabbed her purse and looks day her kid. She opened her mouth and then closed it. She thought for a moment and walked into the little building that held the lavatories.

Roger smiled, a cruel smile. It was working as planned!

Roger slithered over to the child who was still blissfully swinging. If only he knew. Roger grabbed one of the chains, effectively cutting off the boy's movement. The boy looked up, wondering what had happened. Roger put on his friendliest smile.

"Hi there, little one!" Roger was actually really good at sounding nice.

"Hi," said the young child. He looked at Roget with small eyes and then looked down at his boots. "My mom said that I'm not suppose to talk to strangers."

Roger snorted. "C'mon! You can talk to me! I'm a kid...just a little older. Besides, I need someone to talk to; I saw something terrible."

The boy looked up, eager and wide-eyed. "What was it?" he asked, all thoughts of not taking to strangers out of his mind.

Roger shook his head dramatically. "I couldn't tell you! It was absolutely horrendous! No kid should hear it!"

"But you said you was a kid too!"

"I guess that is true." Roger tried hard not to laugh. "Oh well, if you say so. I was walking hear from across the street, and I saw a lady crossing the road. For some reason, she was walking even though the light was green!"

"But that's dangerous!"

"I know! Anyway, she was walking and this big truck came around the corner and hit her!"

The child's eyes opened wide. His mouth fell open and little tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "That's awful! Is she okay?"

Roger shook his head and sighed, still forcing back a grin. "I wish I could say so. Her head was right next to her feet and her guts were all spilt out." Ignoring the kid's gasps and cries, Roger continued. "She was such a pretty lady though. She had long black hair and wore a red sweater with thick black pants."

"That sounds like my mommy...But she's over..." Upon realizing that the bench was empty, the child seemed to freeze. His skin was like virgin snow, his eyes wet and shiny, and his mouth a gaping crevice.

Roger waited for it with eagerness.

The boy began to wail and tears began to flow down his face. Roger finally smiled, his good guy persona dead. Roger turned on his hills and whistled while he walked away, a bounce in his step.


	10. Chapter 10

Maurice walked very quickly; he was a boy on a mission. He walked down the empty streets of the neighborhood, gazing at the mailboxes intently. After some time, Maurice finally found the place he was looking for.

Roger's house wasn't quite the house Maurice pictured, even though he didn't quite have a picture at all. The house had only one story and was decidedly ugly. Shingles were missing, the paint was faded, the grass was overgrown, and green mildew began to grow on some of its sides. His smile faltered a little bit but he kept his head up and walked proudly to the door.

Maurice knocked loudly and confidently upon the green, chipped wood. A sound of feet shuffling, groaning, and bolts unlocking drifted from the other side. The door opened to reveal a short and bearded man. He wore sweatpants and no shoes. His wife beater was grease-stained and terribly wrinkled.

Maurice's smile died a sad death.

"What is it?" The voice was as old and weathered as the man himself.

"I...I'm from Roger's school, sir, and-"

"Oh boy!" He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket. "Here," he said, handing it to Maurice, "this oughta cover any medical or mental expenses that monster could've caused."

"Oh..no!" Maurice handed it back to the perplexed man. "I came over to see Roger; I'm his friend."

The man looked at Maurice as if he said that he was God.

"Ooookayyy. His room is the last on the left. The first aid kit is in the bathroom."

Maurice passed by the greasy man and walked into the dingy house. A smell of rot filled his nostrils. He walked down the dimly lit corridor. On the walls of peeling floral wall paper, several photos appeared. One was of Roger as a baby (Maurice couldn't help but go "Awww!") while another was of Roger at about age six. In it, Roger was actually _smiling _and he was with a dark haired woman. Maurice reached the door and opened it.

Loud heavy metal music screeched at his poor ears. Maurice winced at the sound. Even though a light on a ceiling fan was on, everything about the room was black. The walls were black, the ceiling was black, the carpet was black, the dresser was black, the sheets to the bed were all black, the pillows were black, even the underwear on the thin, pale-skinned black haired boy who was lounging on his front and drawing in a notebook was black.

Maurice both smiled and winced at this site. He smiled and even blushed when he saw the Roger was only in his underwear (he was also happy to see such a site), however he winced when he saw how skeletal and malnourished his frame was.

Roger continued sketching, unaware he was being watched. "Umm...Roger?"

Roger's head shot straight up and he stared at Maurice with great wide eyes like a deer in headlights. Then he expeditiously sat up, closed his notebook, and placed it under his blankets which he the covered himself with. "H-hi."

"I..um..came over to see if you were okay." Maurice sat awkwardly at the edge of his bed.

"Oh." Roger didn't quite know what to say.

"Was that your dad?"

"Fuck no!"

The severity of Roger's outburst made Maurice cower. Roger felt bad for him, which wasn't that common. "He's my foster dad."

"Oh was that lady in those photos in the hall your mom?"

"Yeah. My dad left before I was born."

"What happened to your mom?"

"She hated everything so she hung herself." The matter of factness didn't appear to be from not caring, but out of sad acceptance.

"Oh!" Maurice desperately tried to change the subject. "What were you drawing?"

"Nothing!" Roger looked like he was hiding something.

"I guess I'll go then." Maurice left without saying goodbye.

Roger sighed and continued his portrait of the boy he loved.


End file.
